


glowing, gently

by owilde



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/F, Lazy Mornings, Past Abusive Relationship (mentioned), Pure fluff really, Slice of Life, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 11:23:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11312373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owilde/pseuds/owilde
Summary: She's ethereal, Sansa thinks, blinking slowly. Dany feels like something out of a dream; like a dream you can barely remember, where the details blur but you recall a faint sensation ofsomethingthat stays with you - Dany is that feeling, isloveandpeaceandhomeall at once.





	glowing, gently

**Author's Note:**

> oops, i accidentally got roped into this ship.
> 
> that being said, i'm in a very femslashy mood, so...... we'll see what else i'll write up. more daensa? sansaery? something else? no one knows
> 
> this is just........... pure fluff lmao

Sunlight spills in through the cracked white curtains, casting a beam across the rumpled covers they lie under, comfortable and soft. Early morning, Sansa guesses, her eyes barely open. She wiggles her toes, stretches her legs, rolls carefully over in the bed.

Dany is still fast asleep. Her lashes brush against her cheeks, the remnants of yesterday's make up still evident on her rosy cheeks and glittery lids and smudged lipstick. A strand of hair falls over her face, and Sansa brushes it aside, tucking it behind her ear.

 _She's ethereal_ , Sansa thinks, blinking slowly. Dany feels like something out of a dream; like a dream you can barely remember, where the details blur but you recall a faint sensation of _something_ that stays with you - Dany is that feeling, is _love_ and _peace_ and _home_ all at once.

There are freckles on her sun kissed face, a leftover from their time in Rome. They decorate her cheeks, her nose, reaching over to her neck and shoulders. Sansa traces their path gently, her fingers brushing against Dany's skin, her touch feather light.

How grateful she is, to have someone like Dany in her life. Sansa doesn't miss her past - she sometimes thinks that perhaps, in another lifetime, she might've stayed there, cowering under Joffrey's thumb with the threat of violence and blood hanging above her head on the constant. That perhaps, if no one had come along, she might've never been saved from that life.

But Dany did come along

She recalls the morning they had met, in the café near Joffrey's house (the only one she was allowed to visit on weekends, per his demand). Sansa had ordered a green tea - Dany had scribbled a tiny rose on the side of the cup, surprisingly detailed, and she'd smiled at Sansa in a blinding way. Sansa had stumbled over her thanks, had blushed - probably - half out of embarrassment and half out of something else she hadn't been ready to label.

They'd met again. And again. And again. And-

And then Dany had seen the bruises which had coloured Sansa's skin. And her shocked gasp, her tears, her whispered words of comfort had made Sansa feel more loved than she had ever felt in her life.

She'd moved out the following day, while Joffrey had been at work. She hadn't left a note, had left nothing behind. And she'd waited at the steps of Dany's apartment the entire day, going mad with fear and paranoia, expecting Joffrey to appear at any second from behind the corner.

He hadn't.

Dany had taken her in with open arms. Soon Dany's wardrobe had turned into _their_ wardrobe, Dany's kitchen had turned into _their_ kitchen, Dany's bed had turned into _their_ bed.

Dany sighs in her sleep. Sansa shuffles closer, letting her hands rest on Dany's waist; her skin feels warm despite the cold of the apartment. The covers edge over their hips.

The memory of their first kiss slips into Sansa's mind and she smiles to herself.

It had been a few months after Sansa had moved in. Everything had settled into a sort of domestic routine - Dany would wake up before her, shower, make breakfast enough for both of them and leave to work. Sansa would wake up to the sound of her leaving, have breakfast, and do her own freelance work for the day. Dany would come back, they'd have dinner together, Sansa would retire to their bed to read and Dany would join her after finishing the evening run of _The Hell Jester._

It had been a normal day. Sansa had been propped up against some pillows, _The Wuthering Heights_ in her lap, when she'd read a sentence that had made her heart jump inside her chest.

" _Whatever our souls are made out of, his and mine are the same."_

She'd let the words wash over her, like a tidal wave, crushing yet comforting. Why had her thoughts immediately flown to Dany? Why had she felt a pang in her chest, a sordid mix of sorrow and melancholy and hope - _whatever our souls are made out of, her and mine are the same._

"Sansa?" Dany's worried voice had broken the spell. "Are you alright?"

Sansa had shook her head, blinking rapidly. She'd closed the book, forgetting to dog ear the page. "Yeah, I- yeah," she'd mumbled. She'd turned to look at Dany, who'd been leaning towards her, her eyes full of questions.

"Is it Joffrey?" Dany had asked, sitting closer. She'd cupped Sansa's face in her hands, had looked into her eyes, searching, seeking.

"No," Sansa had whispered. "It's you."

A frown had appeared between Dany's brows, a deep line etched into her skin. "Me? But what have I-"

Before she'd been able to finish the sentence, Sansa had leaned in, gently pressing her lips against Dany's. Her mouth had been warm, her lips chapped, and Sansa had drawn away far too soon to remember the taste of her kiss, regret and shame twirling in her stomach.

"... _oh_ ," Dany had breathed out, blinking down at Sansa, her brows raised.

The air inside the room had turned suffocating. Sansa had felt her skin prickling, like tiny shards of ice pressed against her.

"I'm sorry," Sansa had mumbled, closing her eyes. "I shouldn't have."

Dany had taken a few seconds to answer. "No," she'd muttered. "On the contrary."

Afterwards, Sansa had never forgotten the taste of her kiss, or the feel of her lips pressed against hers, or the weight of Dany on top of her.

Dany's soft murmuring brings Sansa back to present moment. She blinks her eyes open, slowly, dragging her hand across her face and subsequently smushing her make up even worse.

Sansa giggles at the sight, resting her head against the pillow. She enjoys their mornings together the best - when she gets to see Dany like this, so soft and yet so rough, still half asleep and seeping warmth.

"Morning," Sansa says, leaning closer to press a kiss on Dany's nose.

"Mornin'," Dany mutters, her eyes flickering across Sansa's face in a tired manner, unguarded. "What time is it?"

"No idea," Sansa replies, tapping the fingers that rest on Dany's waist. "Early?"

"I'd say," comes a bitter reply, and Sansa can't help the smile which blooms on her face.

"Thank god for Saturdays," Dany continues. "Although I thank no one for this hangover.

Sansa snorts. "Am I ever so glad I didn't let you convince me to do those double shots," she says, letting her voice slip into a teasing tone. "I do recall _someone_ being challenged to do flaming shots - with vodka, I might add - and readily accepting the invitation."

Dany groans, burying her head into her pillow. "Of course it was vodka," she complains, her voice muffled by the pillow.

"I did tell you to watch it with the hard liquor," Sansa says, letting out a laugh. "How bad does your head hurt?"

Dany lifts her head from the pillow. She moves closer, her nose touching Sansa's, their eyes meeting.

"Not bad," she replies. "I'll survive."

"Good. I'd hate to lose you."

Dany huffs. Her hand travels over to where Sansa's hand is holding her waist and she gently wraps her fingers around Sansa's wrist, flipping them both over so that Sansa is laying on her back and Dany on top of her, fitting comfortably between her legs.

"I should listen to you more," Dany sighs, resting her head against Sansa's chest.

"You should," Sansa agrees. Her heart doesn't pick up its speed anymore at the sensation of being with Dany like this, skin against skin, feeling more open than she's ever been with anyone. Instead her heart seems to hum in quiet joy, as if to say, _yes, this is home_.

"Let's not do anything today," Dany suggests. Sansa feels the vibrations of her voice against her chest and closes her eyes, breathing in through her nose as a smile overtakes her face.

"Yes," Sansa replies, sneaking her hands around Dany's exposed back. "Let's not."

The house around them remains quiet and cold.

Outside, it begins to snow.


End file.
